Dancing Around The Fire
by CaptainPan
Summary: AU where Pan knows that he will have to take out Felix's heart before he has to do it. Pan struggles with his emotions for Felix and decides to tell him what he is going to have to do. A romance ensues that will have the potential to bring the King of Neverland to his knees. (Panlix/Neverland Husbands)
1. Chapter 1

Finding the recipe for the curse that created the legendary Storybrooke was quite the mission, especially considering the fact that the original was in Storybrooke with the Queen – the first caster of the curse. However, nothing was impossible for the self-proclaimed king of Neverland. His lips curled upwards as he read through the list, giddy from the small victory. The giddiness didn't last too long, though. Peter's shoulders grew heavy as he read the final ingredient: the heart of the thing you love most. For a moment he was puzzled. It'd been a while since he'd thought about love, and it never even occurred to him that it was a possible emotion for him.

All of his life he'd been running from family, from friends, from attachments. All of his life had been a dance around love, never fully coming into contact with it; at least, not willingly. Peter's eyes lifted from the parchment and glanced around the camp, watching the boys play around the fire. He found it interesting how such fragile things could smile and frolic around such a dangerous thing, but then he realized that the fire was probably the least of their worries, and his shoulders sagged once more. He was afraid to love; he was afraid to show emotion. There was one person he had feelings for , though.

A crunch of leaves behind him, a shuffling of feet, and a tap on the shoulder woke Peter from his thinking. "Is everything alright?" The man arriving, Felix, asked, "It's the wrong recipe, isn't it? I told you those Darlings weren't smart boys. You should have sent someone else to go get it. I'll go beat some sense into those little brats and do it myself," Felix moved to leave once again, his gait filled with rage and his hands clenched into fists, but Peter chuckled and reached out for Felix's hand.

He grasped it in his and said: "No, that's not it, Felix."

"Then what is it?" Felix said, as Peter pulled him over to sit by him on the ground. Felix crouched to the ground, holding his knees to his chest and resting his head gently upon them as he looked into Peter's eyes, searching for some hint as to what could be troubling him. Peter avoided his gaze, looking at the ground and never letting go of Felix's hand.

He squeezed it a little bit tighter and said, "I have something I need to tell you."

Felix scooted closer to Peter and whispered, "You know you can tell me anything. I'm here for you completely." Felix gently rubbed his thumb over the back of Peter's hand as he spoke, trying to coax the secret out of Peter's lips.

"If I'm to do this curse…If I'm to live forever…I have to take your heart," Peter bit his lip at the last word, and looked into Felix's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Felix's eyes grew wider and his eyebrows lifted. "Oh," he released Peter's hand and moved his own to his knee. Peter's hand fell limp and landed in the dirt.

"I'm sorry, Felix," Peter repeated, "There's nothing else I can do. The recipe calls for the heart of the thing I love most, and-"

"You love me?" Felix asked, his neck lifting and lips fighting a grin.

"That's not the point. I have to kill you," Peter said, lowering his glance to the dirt once more in an attempt to hide his darkening cheeks.

Felix's mind raced with thoughts. There was the looming fear of death which drove his every movement, his every strike with his sword, his every strategic thought, but then there was a strange tickling in his chest: the person he fought for. His loyalty was never in question, not in his own mind, but his emotions were. He didn't have time to feel; he didn't have time to think. Finally, he decided what he needed to do. He decided how he was feeling.

"Come on, Peter. We both knew I'd have to die at some point, and there's only one thing I wouldn't mind dying for: you," Felix's lips gave in and pushed his cheeks into his eyes, unable to conceal his joy. Peter smiled, too, but continued to glare at the dirt. He couldn't meet Felix's eyes; especially not now that he knew Felix felt the same way. It was just too painful.

Felix leaned over and brushed his lips against Peter's pink cheek before whispering into his ear, "I love you, too, and if I need to die for you to get what you want, so be it." He scooted over even closer to Peter so that their sides were completely touching and grasped his hand once more. Felix rested his head on Peter's shoulder and looked over at the boys playing around the fire, completely oblivious to what was happening on the other side of camp. It was in that moment that Felix realized he had been dancing around a fire his entire life, and was just now starting to dance too close. At least he had had time to dance. At least he didn't mind the burning.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few days, Peter told Felix in secret that he'd be leaving for a few days. This wasn't an odd occurrence (especially considering the fact that Pan's life was shortening by the minute), but every time Peter left Neverland – hell, every time Peter left the camp, Felix was worried about him. He claimed to be untouchable, but Felix knew that wasn't true. Peter gets hurt, he gets bruised, and he gets cut. Felix knew this; he had been the cause of many of those infamous bruises that Peter woke up with stamped on to his neck. Peter didn't complain though.

The days passed slowly. They seemed to drag on and on for Felix, who found himself pacing in the day and crying at night far more often than he ever had before. After Peter confessed his love for Felix, they had grown closer. They hadn't…done anything per say, but at night, Felix would wrap his arms around Peter and feel as though he had a purpose. He would feel the gentle rising and falling of Peter's chest as he slept beside him; something no one else had probably ever heard. He would kiss the snowy cheeks of Peter as he tried to fall asleep and he would nibble on his ear lobes as the sun rose.

Felix hardly slept anymore; not without Peter. It was painful to close his eyes and wake up in the morning without his hand in Peter's; without his body pressed warmly against the back of the little demon he called home. It hurt to be without him.

The days turned into a week; and then weeks; and finally, one not so very special day, Felix walked into his tent that he and Peter had pitched specifically for them to share and found blood. So much blood. A trail of it made a stream from the entrance of the tent to the pile of blankets that he and Peter shared. On the blanket, he found Peter whose eyes were blinking awkwardly, staying closed for a bit longer each time they fluttered, and whose shirt was stained crimson.

Felix rushed over to his side and shook Peter, who had no response. "What happened?" Felix asked, his vision blurring as he looked down and saw Peter lifting his shirt. Felix caught the hint and carefully placed one arm under Peter. He lifted him up and propped him up against a small table before reaching down and pulling Peter's shirt over his head. Peter groaned, but Felix kept going.

The wound was deep. The blood leaked out of it like water from a faucet, pouring down on to the blankets and into Felix's hands. Felix pulled Peter over to him and laid him down in his lap, tears stinging his eyes. He blinked them back as his lip quivered and his hands shook, fighting so hard to be strong for Peter. "It's just a scratch," Peter said, faking a smile. Peter tried to laugh, but his expression quickly changed to a horrified one and he coughed up blood instead.

"What do I do?" Felix whispered urgently. When Peter didn't respond and instead allowed his eyes to flutter shut, Felix shook him angrily and yelled, "What do I do!?" Peter didn't respond, his eyes grew pale and his mouth hung open. His hands stopped shaking. His body grew limp. Felix's body fell into an immediate trench of emotion. He closed his eyes and put his head down on Peter's bare chest, finally letting the tears pool over and on to Peter. He cried out and lifted his head, looking at Peter's lifeless face. A tear of blood dripped from his lips, but other than that, there was no movement; just loss. Felix bent his neck and planted a firm, shaky kiss on to Peter's lips, holding it for a minute as he grasped Peter's hand, scratching his cold palm with his nails.

A pulse of life tore open Peter's chest and he took a desperate intake of breath before sitting up and gasping. He grasped at the wound which one took up the majority of his torso, but found only skin. It was then that he noticed Felix sitting beside him. Overtook by emotion, Peter let himself fall into Felix's arms and cry into his shoulder. Felix wrapped his arms around Peter and brought his hands to the other boy's naked shoulders, holding him against him. "I thought I lost you," Felix said, hiccupping as he cried, the sadness penetrating his voice with no filter.

"I thought I lost you," Peter mumbled into Felix's shirt, clawing at the material and shoving his nose further into the crook of Felix's neck. Peter tried to hide the tears that dripped from his eyes, but Felix felt them, and that only made him hold him closer.


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed with no contact between Felix and Peter; not even so much as a glance or a smile. The wall that previously stood between them that hid Peter's vulnerability and coddled Felix's weakness had been obliterated by the blood-stained sheets in their tent; blown into pieces so small that it could never be put back together. However, both parties on either side of the wall refused to admit that it had fallen, and this tore Felix apart.

He felt betrayed by Peter. He knew how he felt, but it wasn't fair. Peter was embarrassed that Felix had saved him; he was embarrassed about even needing help in the first place. It was ridiculous and Felix knew nothing better to do than ignore him until he could swallow his pride. Felix felt weak. He felt as though if Peter were to ever actually be in peril (not just under a curse that tore open his insides), Felix would be defenseless. He would have to watch him die. He would have to let him die. The thought dominated his subconscious with every night that passed separated from Peter, creating visions in his head that speculated about various scenarios that could play out. Nothing was said between the two, but Felix knew he shouldn't return to the tent they had shared – not yet – so he slept against a rugged log, resting his head on his arms that scratched against rocks as he stirred in the night, leaving bloody lines all up and down his arms when he returned from his nightmares.

It was impossible. Staying mad at Peter was like swinging on a rope in the hopes that one day it would change into a beautiful swing – it was useless and dumb. Peter would never change and he would never give in to a Lost Boy, so there was no point in trying to prove a point to him. That was all Felix really was, after all: just another recruit, another body that could be used to protect Peter. He was a fool to believe in something further than that. He was foolish to think that perhaps Peter could actually love someone like him: a weak coward who daydreamed about a perfect life with a man hundreds of years older than himself. To Peter, he was nothing, but his everything was consumed by Peter. His every thought retreated to him as a solace, his hands scratched at the dirt in the night, searching for his hand to hold. Peter's name crawled from Felix's lips as he slept as if it was a prayer that he had memorized as a child and was just now learning the meaning of.

Felix lost his anger when he lost his dignity. He lost his ferocity just as he lost his façade that he could prove something to a King – a god. That was why it came as a surprise to Felix when Pan approached him first. It was in the middle of the night, and Felix wasn't sleeping. He had grown sick of that realm that lay beyond the shadows, and had instead preferred to occupy this one: a more stable one. His eyes darted around the blackness, hearing movement, but seeing only night. After a few more crunches of leaves, Felix jumped to his feet and drew out his dagger without a sound, holding it tightly at his side. A voice in his ear whispered, "It's me, laddie," but he didn't sheath his weapon.

"What do you want?" Felix asked, his voice shaking as he tried to remain still as a statue, dagger in hand, shoulders drawn back.

He could feel the demon's eyes burning into him; daring him to say one more word. Peter paced around him a few more times before saying, "I came for something I think we both could use," the voice shifted from far in front of Felix to into his right ear in a matter of seconds, startling him, "some relaxation." Peter placed his hand on Felix's hand that held the dagger and lowered it. Obedient as always, Felix slipped it back into its carrier and sat down in his previous position.

"Listen, Pan, I don't know what you mean, but I'm tired and I'm not really up for playing a game right now," Felix closed his eyes and plopped his head against the log, sticking his neck out and staring up through the treetops. The moon shone in through the leaves, creating a cool effect, but very little light.

"I'm sorry, Felix," Peter said quickly.

"Pan, I said I don't want to play- wait, what?" Felix could feel Peter's pained smile; the one he used when he was being completely honest. A hand grabbed his seated shoulder as the ground next to him crunched. Peter had sat next to him.

"I said I'm sorry," Peter repeated, turning his head to look into Felix's eyes. He swung his right hand out toward the area in front of them and a small fire started. It incinerated the leaves and continued to grow until Peter did another hand gesture and a force field of some sort surrounded the fire, containing it and magnifying its light. Peter looked back at Felix, whose eyes sparkled as his lips half-smiled, almost as though they were as confused by this as Felix's mind was. Peter apologizing? That was unheard of!

"I'm sorry, too. I should have come to you sooner and I shouldn't have tried to make you feel bad about what happened. You almost died - you did die! I just don't know what to say and-"

Peter's lips crushed into Felix's, his hand rising to cradle his face with one hand while his other rested on Felix's thigh. He pushed into him, before withdrawing his lips and whispering, their foreheads rested against one another's, "It's okay. You saved me and I'm sorry. I love you, Felix." They stayed like that for a while: heads resting on one another, hands entangled, bodies touching, whispering sweet nothings to one another as they pecked each other's lips every once in a while. The shadows of the fire danced on their faces, creating beautiful designs and bringing their childish love to life as they rekindled their love. The anger was gone, and Felix felt strong again.


	4. Chapter 4

The anticipation was unbearable. The days trotted on and on, never one passing without at least a kiss between Felix and Peter, but never one passing with anything more. Each time they kissed, Peter would rest his hand on Felix's thigh and let his fingers dance up his leg, reaching for that next step in their relationship. Every time his fingers hardly grazed the slight bulge in Felix's pants, however, Felix would recoil – both from the kiss and the hand. After that, he wouldn't make eye contact with Peter and would just make up an excuse as to why he had to go, but every time they met again, Peter would try and fail once more. Had Felix been anyone else, Peter would demand that he take him right then and there, but Felix was sweet; he was fragile. He needed time.

The only time that Felix ever accepted the hand was one night. The setting mirrored that of the night that Peter came to Felix to apologize: a moonlit night shrouded in trees; two figures cast into silhouettes by a fire as they longed to never leave one another's lips, their bodies pressed against one another as though any empty air between them stung to the touch. Their chests pressed together; their lips sucking and pulling in a mad frenzy of clashing teeth and tongues; their hands pulling each other closer, digging into each other's backs with their nails. All of this came to a screeching halt, though, when Peter's hand found its way between Felix's thighs and gripped the cloth that gathered there. Felix gasped and his lips drew back from Peter's, his eyes widening and dick hardening into Peter's hand, which was still as a statue. Peter leaned forward and tried to press his lips to Felix's once more, but Felix turned his head away, looking into the fire and avoiding Peter's fierce green eyes.

"Every time, Felix! Every fucking time," Peter yelled, withdrawing his hand and standing up to stare down at Felix. "Is there something wrong? Is there something wrong with me?!" Peter's hands hung awkwardly at his sides, his right hand clenching into a fist as he spoke. The urge to hit Felix was strong, but he managed to suppress the awful habit. His own nails dug into his palms, and his teeth bit into his cheek to keep his lip from quivering even a tiny bit.

Felix stood up so that he could meet Peter's gaze with the same confidence that the former expressed. He could see the small indent that meant Peter was biting his cheek and realized that this was really irritating Peter; it was making him so upset or angry that he wanted to cry. "I'm not a hobby, Peter. I'm not going to have sex with you in the middle of the woods just for kicks. That's not who I am."

"Well then who are you, laddie?" Peter asked, stepping closer to Felix so that their chests nearly touched. It wasn't a sexual advance, though. It was just a warning; a declaration of superiority. The poison on Peter's tongue burned deep, urging him to let loose and scream into Felix's face. His stomach boiled, and his palms felt as if they could catch fire with how hard he was digging his nails into them.

"I love you, Peter. I don't have to have sex with you to know that. If you need to have sex with me to love me, fine. We can do it." Peter scoffed at this. He broke eye contact for a split second to look off over Felix's right shoulder and bite his lip, letting a chuckle slip from between his teeth. He crossed his arms over his chest before dragging his eyes back over to meet Felix's.

"Don't you dare make me the enemy here. Not wanting to have sex with me does not make you a better person. Frankly, it makes you an idiot. Have you seen the way the other boys look at me? Have you seen the way they undress me with their eyes, praying that they could one day have me as their own? If they had the chance, they'd all give me a good fuck, but you – the only one I'm willing to engage – won't even let me touch your fucking cock without whining like a girl," Peter spat the last word with such venom that Felix felt its sting. "I'm not going to give you a pity fuck, and you're not going to give me one either. How weak do you think I am?"

"Peter, you know I didn't mean it like that," Felix said, stepping even closer to Pan who had drifted away during his last rant. He tried to grab Peter's hand, but met only harsh, cold air as Peter jerks his hand away.

"My name is Pan. Not Peter," he finished, backing away from Felix and turning around. He walked away from Felix, each step weakening his knees even further. He finally quit biting his lip and let the tears come down his face, dripping on to the brown dirt under him. He made no sound as he cried, afraid that Felix might hear him, but instead walked with an intention and desire so obvious that it scared even himself.

"Pete-" Felix stopped himself, "Pan! Wait!" Felix screamed after Pan, locked in place by some form of magic or maybe just his innate fear of the predator: Pan. "Please," Felix finished, whispering that word as though it would curse all who heard its foul plea. He didn't cry; there was no need to. He just stared at the ground and prayed that Pan would see past his own foolishness and come back.

Pan had his own goals in mind, though. He wasn't going to let Felix get the satisfaction of being his only option. He was going to prove to Felix that he didn't need him; that his earlier claim certainly held some ground. He was going to fuck a lost boy.


End file.
